Jerusalem Mortimer wants a word

Main menu

Post navigation

Probation Officer #178: The Samoan Minister 15

Back at the office, I wondered if I’d learned anything from Ana. She’d given me a convincing and bewildered denial. But, I reflected, I’d gone about it wrong if I really wanted to get at the truth. I’d made it clear that I’d have to stop being her parole officer if we ever did anything sexual … All I’d done was set her up to lie to me.

So all I’d learned was that she was more skilled at lying than I’d thought. Or she was telling the truth and I’d learned, if I’d only trust her, that Ana had stayed on her couch, and it had been Sa’afia all along. Sa’afia who’d been able to say “shhhh” with her mouth deeply taking my cock, Sa’afia who was kittenishly sexy in the night, and then angry in the morning.

Sa’afia who hadn’t said anything loving to me since that night. So I called her. She answered, cagily.

I said, “Are you somewhere private, where you can talk?”

“No. No, I’m not.”

“Then get somewhere private. Right now. I don’t care if you’re serving someone. Do it now.”

A minute passed, and then Sa’afia said, “Yes, I can talk.”

“Good. How are you?”

“I’m ok.”

“Well, that’s a nice change. You’ve been shitty with me for nearly a week. And I’ve asked you what it’s about and you haven’t told me.”

“Well, I’m sorry. It’s -”

“And now I don’t even care.”

“Oh.” She sounded shocked.

“You’re coming over tomorrow. I don’t care what your Mom’s doing. You’ll be at my door at ten on Saturday morning. Understood?”

“Yes, but -”

“Good. I’m going to spend the first hour punishing your sorry little ass. Until I’m sure you’re sorry everywhere, not just your ass. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” It was understood. Her voice sounded slightly stronger. Whatever she’d been angry about, she preferred to be claimed, and not left to herself too much.

“Then I’m going to spend two hours fucking you. After that we’ll see.”